


a pile of stuff

by kerrykins



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Since it's basically all the stuff I deemed unworthy of continuing, Warning: This Is Very Bad, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:56:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: Messy, from a variety of stories. Drabbles, outtakes, small ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

**I.**

 

Miranda’s silver hair ruffled in the wind, her head tossed back in laughter. The lines around her mouth and eyes deepened considerably, and Andy couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with affection for her. She wanted to do nothing more than to kiss her until they saw stars, hold her close as they watched the dimming sun descend out of sight, diving deep into the sea.

 

It was impossible to not be drawn in by the woman, if her millions of devoted followers were any indicator. Miranda had a certain kind of charm about her that was well-- uniquely her. When Andy had met her for the first time, she’d felt that pull. She’d always wondered whether or not Miranda had felt it too, but whenever she’d actually look at her, the question died on her lips. Andy had a plethora of shiny, impressive words that could perfectly encapsulate how Miranda made her feel at her fingertips. But then she’d see those gorgeous, sapphire blue eyes on her, and notice the subtle quirk of her lips, as if they were sharing a private joke. Then it felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her.

 

The woman wasn’t all cutting remarks and insults, Andy quickly learned. There was a gentleness in the way she turned the pages of the Book, a honeyed note of tenderness when she spoke to her daughters. It made Andy feel all the same though, a strange kind of bubbling sensation in her stomach that only Miranda was capable of producing in her. She didn’t have a name for it yet; maybe it was love, but love was too short of a word to summate her gargantuan feelings.

 

“Andrea,” the older woman called her, out of breath from running across the beach. Andy immediately snapped back to reality, beaming at Miranda, like a flower unfurling its petals in the sunlight. The editor blinked, looking surprised, but offered an equally radiant smile in return.

 

If her life was a solar system, Miranda would be her sun, the very centre of everything.

 

**II.**

 

Miranda observed Andrea over the rims of her glasses, and as always, tried to be discreet. Her chestnut brown hair was smoothed back, cinnamon-flecked eyes wide and warm. Her mouth folded around the corners when she smiled, which was almost always. Anyone who looked at her was sure to be blinded by brilliant white teeth and bright red lipstick.

 

The girl had just arrived from an errand, and glowed with enthusiasm as she chatted with Emily, who for once, didn’t seem irked by the other assistant’s rambling. Miranda even caught a small smile or two from the redhead.

 

It was impossible to not smile around Andrea. Whenever Miranda was in a horrible mood, one glance at the girl would almost instantly calm her. A reassuring smile, and soft words of greeting would make her heart beat wildly. The kinds of smiles that Andrea directed at her were special. Used in combination with those expressive, doe-like eyes, Miranda was at her mercy.

 

Emotions just flowed out of the girl as easily as water. That Smile was almost ethereal, the one where her typical megawatt grin was more subtle, but that was likely because there was already too much joy shining in her eyes. Miranda melted as easily as chocolate in them.

 

Miranda recalled one incident where the girl had again, caught her in a moment of vulnerability, on the verge of tears. Caroline had snapped at her over the phone, told her that she hated her and wished she didn’t have Miranda as a mother. It hurt her deeply, and in that moment, Miranda felt like she’d lost everything.

 

Andrea hadn’t asked what was wrong. Instead, she just took a seat next to Miranda, and they sat in silence together for several minutes. Once Miranda had finally composed herself, Andrea said to her somberly, “I can tell you need to cry, please don’t fight it. Even you can’t be strong all the time, despite the fact that you’re clearly telling yourself that.”

 

At her words, Miranda felt small tears trail down her cheeks, her vision going watery. Andrea wiped them away for her, her fingers delicate and warm. Looking back at it, Miranda wished she had cried more, because then the girl’s hand would have held her face a little bit longer.


	2. Chapter 2

Miranda paced along the planet, feeling dirt crunch under her feet. She glanced up at the stars, faraway worlds of light that she would never know, never see.

 

She weaved through the cluster of dark green trees, their leaves caressing her shoulders as she passed by them. The stream ahead of her roared, the stepping stones smooth and slippery. Miranda was careful not to trip, as she’d be whisked off the planet if she were to be caught up in the current. Once she had safely reached the other side, she knelt down at the river’s edge, cupping her hands in it. The water was ice cool, and she raised it to her lips, drinking deeply. It hurt, like every one of her tastebuds had frozen and fallen off.

 

With wet hands, she smoothed back her hair, and gazed at her reflection in the water. Her face was smeared with dirt, and there was an ugly slash over her left eye, marring her otherwise perfect features. Miranda scowled, unsure if it had been inflicted by the tree branches or the guards that had come after her. She looked tired, and she dunked her entire face in the water, expelling her reflection in ripples.

 

This time, she couldn’t tell whether the water was scorching hot or freezing cold. It burned, and overwhelmed by the sharp sensations, she fell in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dumb idea I had at 2:00 AM-ish. I think I intended it to be a kind of sci-fi thing.


	3. inescapable - first attempt at chapter 5

 

So. Andrea. Miranda tapped her pen to her lips thoughtfully. What was it about the girl that made her act so carelessly?

 

Two hours later, and she was her wit’s end. Her incredible skills of deduction, so helpful when determining what was ruining an outfit, had failed her this time. This made no sense whatsoever, and all she had was a jumble of conflicted thoughts and emotions. Miranda’s worst fear had just come true; she didn’t know what was happening. She was-- though not yet completely-- losing control. 

 

_ But she’s my soulmate, so it’s all right,  _ a part of her added unhelpfully.

 

Miranda sank into a chair, sighing. She thought soulmates could be platonic, there were plenty of stories about those kinds of things. Yes, Andrea was her soulmate, but that alone was not a good enough excuse for her to relent.

 

She glanced at her arm, bare now spare for a  _ Goodnight, M. Talk to you tomorrow.  _ Her hand that held a pen twitched.

 

Muttering to herself, she wrote a quick greeting on her arm. Almost like magic, a response danced along her forearm immediately.

 

_ M! You’re up late. What’s keeping you? _

 

_ Work, as always. You? _

 

_ Eh. Can’t sleep, I have insomnia. Also, my boyfriend is out again and it feels weird without him here. _

 

At the mention of him, Miranda didn’t feel very jealous this time. Perhaps peeved that Andrea was lonely tonight.

 

_ Boyfriend. I wasn’t aware. Does he know of our arrangement? _

 

_ I haven’t told him.  _ A pause followed, and Miranda just waited. She knew what was coming next.

 

_ I don’t think it matter anyways, since I have a feeling he’s found his soulmate. Late nights out, always has a pen in his hand. He came home a day or so ago, really late, and it was obvious what he’d been doing. _

 

_ I see. I’m sorry to hear that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part where Miranda was trying to understand what was happening seemed a little wonky, so I ended up cutting it. I kept the dialogue, though.


	4. inescapable - second attempt at chapter 5

Miranda opened the door to the twin’s room slightly, smiling when she saw that they were fast asleep, snoring softly. She wished she could have gotten home earlier, so she could have at least tucked them in. Within a couple years, she wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, and they would not only turn down her kisses, but hugs as well.

 

With this, she shut the door as quietly as she could, then tiptoed down to her own room.

 

Once Miranda had collapsed in a chair, she glanced at her arm, bare now spare for a  _ Goodnight, M. Talk to you tomorrow.  _ Her hand twitched, as if telling to her to respond.

 

Muttering to herself, she wrote a quick greeting. Almost like magic, a response danced along her forearm immediately.

 

_ M! You’re up late. What’s keeping you? _

 

_ Work, as always. You? _

 

_ Eh. Can’t sleep, I have insomnia. Also, my boyfriend is out again and it feels weird without him here. _

 

At the mention of him, Miranda didn’t feel very jealous this time. Perhaps a flash of annoyance that Andrea was spending the night alone.

 

_ Boyfriend. I wasn’t aware. Does he know of our bond? _

 

_ I haven’t told him.  _ A pause followed, and Miranda just waited. She knew what was coming next.

 

_ I don’t think it matter anyways, since I have a feeling he’s found his own soulmate, actually. Or at least he’s seeing someone else. He came home a day or so ago, really late, and it was obvious what he’d been doing. _

 

_ I see. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you two ending things? _

 

_ I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to, and I wouldn’t know how to. _

 

Miranda pursed her lips. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Every part of her told her that the logical thing to say would be, “You should have ended things as soon as you caught wind of what he was doing,” but that would be highly hypocritical of her. 

 

After all, she’d known that Stephen was having an affair for nearly a year, and had made no effort to stop him. Maybe it was because she had hoped they could work things out, that given time, everything would be fixed. Maybe her girls wouldn’t have to go through that again, if she had a little patience. But her marriage did not improve, and eventually led to those faxed divorce papers in Paris.  _ Waiting solves nothing, _ she realised. 

 

What exactly was she waiting for? Her whole life, she’d refused to wait. She refused to let anything hinder her; her parents, Irv, the press, anyone that had stood in her way, trying to coerce her into doing something she didn’t want to do... she hadn’t ever let that stop her. So why was she depriving herself and Andrea from reaching their full potential as soulmates? Why did she feel the need to control everything in her life, restrain herself from being happy? Without thinking, she wrote something on her arm.

 

_ Andrea. _

 

_ Yeah? _

 

_ Would you like to meet for coffee now? _

 

Miranda didn’t receive a response immediately, and began to worry. This was reckless of her, and she shouldn’t have done this. Oh god, she’d ruined everything. Would Andrea let She glanced at her arm, and felt a wave of relief.

 

_ Where should we meet? _

 

54 2nd Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cut, because it was moving too fast. I thought the dialogue seemed a little boring, and stiff. Miranda's "realisation" just ticked me off.


	5. Chapter 5

It was no secret to anyone that Miriam Princhek had been romantically involved with many men. But she had a secret.

 

There was her childhood best friend, Mary with soft blonde curls that framed her face like halo, a gentle, tinkling laugh that sounded like a bell. She was graceful, polite, and soft-spoken. When she had pressed her lips to Miriam’s cheeks, she had felt her face get hot, heart fluttering and eyes pressed shut in bliss. 

 

They spent their summers giggling as they ran through the streets of England, under sycamore trees, and dived into rivers. Mary was always gentle, impossible to hate. She never dwelled on arguments, didn’t hold grudges, and her bright, hazel eyes glowed with warmth. It was with her soft hands and whisper of a voice that she managed to thaw the heart of grumpy, bitter Miriam.

 

Their pastel pink tea parties and exchanged bouquets of flowers came to an end when Mary moved to Australia. Miriam had thrown her arms around her, trying to commit everything about the girl to her memory. Rosy pink cheeks, the smell of freesias from the afternoon they spent playing in the garden, and the sense of calm that washed over her whenever she played with Mary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got stumped. The line "But Miranda had a secret" was really weak. Was a pretty weak concept in general.


	6. mirandy chef au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> god i was looking through my old, unfinished work, and found this. i'm horrified but posting it anyways. it's from october 16.

“I must admit, you have quite the gift,” Miranda purred as she poured red wine into a couple of glasses. The magenta liquid sloshed happily, and the head chef offered one to Andy, who beamed at her radiantly as she took it. “Thank you.”

 

“So, where did you train, Andrea?” The warm, dulcet tones of her voice were soft. As the snow-haired chef watched the younger woman shiver, she felt a ripple of satisfaction. Coaxing the truth out of Andrea would be easier than she had initially anticipated. She looked at the girl dead in the eye, two pools of cocoa-coloured naivety that blinked back. Miranda almost scoffed. Too easy.

 

“Train?” Andrea asked puzzedly, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Her expression was reminiscent to that of a kicked puppy.

 

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that this is your first time cooking?” Miranda shot back cooly. Andrea looked far too relaxed for her comfort.

 

“I-It’s not.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

“It's my... Second, third, fourth. Fifth time.” When Miranda arched an eyebrow, Andrea immediately blurted. “Monday was my first time. But I've taken out the garbage lots of times before that.”

 

“Well, obviously,” Miranda rolled her eyes, peeved with Andrea’s antics. Time seemed to drag on at a glacial pace when she was around this sorry excuse of a girl. “Have some more wine.” That wasn’t a question. The brunette chef squirmed nervously as she watched Miranda fill the glass once more. Ice blue eyes were trained on the girl intently.


	7. inescapable - third attempt at chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bum bum bum
> 
> another one bites the dust! it's just a little flat, if i plan to update for the first time in months, i want it to be perfect

Miranda was pretty sure she was straight. After all, she’d been married three times. Of course, none of them had worked out, and frankly neither have any relationships with men in general. But she’d never been attracted to a woman before. Whatever was happening with Andrea, it was merely an appreciation for the feminine form, the same way she looked at the models, nothing abnormal.

 

“Miranda!” Miranda bristled at the sound of her name, and turned away from the window to see Andrea running into her office.

 

“It’s unwise to race around like that, especially in heels,” Miranda remarked.

 

Andrea’s chest was heaving, but she grinned. “I have a lot of practice.” She smoothed a stray lock of hair back, eyes with long lashes fluttering shut. Her face was flushed. Miranda swallowed, and tried to remember how to breathe.

 

“What was so important that you had to burst into my office?”

 

“Irv is on his way here,” Andrea said rushedly. “That’s what I had to tell you.” Miranda’s eyes widened as she surveyed her office. It was uncharacteristically messy, binders stacked in the corner and an explosion of papers on her desk. Irv would no doubt taunt her mercilessly for it. “Now?”

 

“Yes, and he didn’t look happy.” Andrea bit her lip, looking appropriately apprehensive. They both knew how Irv was still miraculously trying to get rid of her, despite the fact that Elias-Clark’s shareholders had voiced their disapproval numerous times, threatening to pull out if Miranda was fired. But Irv was chairman of the board, and did as he pleased, despite the inherent risks.

 

“Oh,” was all Miranda said. “Well then.” Andrea fidgeted. “What should I do?”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Can I do anything to make things better for you?” Andrea was always so eager to please, but the reason why was beyond Miranda. She didn’t look at her like Emily did, rendered stupid by hero worship. Andrea knew exactly how fragile she could be, and yet-- she still respected Miranda and seemed to be willing to help her. 

 

“Nothing in particular comes to mind,” Miranda said, just because saying “your job” would be redundant, not to mention unoriginal. “Just close the door on your way out.” Miranda half-expected Andrea to be hurt by this, but she just nodded and did as she was told. Good girl.

 

___

 

Miranda groaned. That was degrading on so many levels. Irv was a massive headache, but at least he was predictable. Naturally, he’d insulted her, her work, and even had the gall to throw around threats. Honestly, did he not realise that she could easily resign anytime she wanted, and that every single publication on the face of the planet would kill for her to work with them?


	8. teacher's pet - first attempt at chapter 3

When Miranda glanced at her watch for what seemed like the millionth time, Andy found the courage to speak up. It was now or never.

 

“Are we okay?”

 

Miranda jerked her head up, her gaze distant. She supplied no answer, but her lips drew into a thin line.

 

“I mean,” Andy began, gesturing helplessly between them. “You haven’t been, uh. Looking at me, or talking to me.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Miranda said with a sniff. But she wasn’t meeting Andy’s eyes.

 

“See,  _ that’s _ what I’m talking about. You’re totally ignoring me.”

 

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Let’s divert our attention back to work, shall we?” With this, Andy slammed her textbook onto the hardwood floor, resulting in a loud thud. Miranda’s face remained impassive, though she flinched a fraction at the noise.

 

“Oh, so now you want to work, because you want to keep on avoiding me.” She gave Miranda a glare. The older woman merely toyed with the collar of her blouse. “Stop trying to change the subject! What’s your problem?” Andy clamped her mouth shut as soon as she’d realised what she’d said. Fuck, that wasn’t what she’d meant.

 

“My problem?” Miranda snarled, her lovely mouth curled into a vicious sneer. “You want to know what my problem is Andrea? You’re being exceedingly immature, which given your age I’m sure I should have anticipated, but this is ridiculous.”

 

“You don’t get to say that,” Andy said through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to say that when you’re the one being weird. Just tell me what I’ve done wrong, for God’s sake! Is it really that hard?” She didn’t know if this was a trust issue or something, but whatever it was, it hurt like hell, much more than she’d let Miranda know.

 

Miranda’s face was hard. “This conversation is over.”

 

“Oh yeah?” The words tumble out fervently, carelessly. Andy couldn’t stop them from leaving her mouth. “I’m done.”

 

“What?” Miranda’s eyes widened, her lips parting of their own accord.

 

“I’m done,” she repeated, putting up her hands in surrender. “Thanks for the tutoring sessions and all, but I think it’s time I get out of your hair now.” Andy rose from her seat. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to sit back down again. Ignoring this, she remained standing, regarding Miranda from above. She could hardly believe she was actually doing this.

 

“You--” the professor shook her head, seeming at a loss for words. “You can’t.” That last word came out as a small whine, and Andy felt herself go rigid with shock. They met each other’s eyes, and Andy was pretty sure her expression was just as surprised as Miranda’s.

 

The older woman got on her feet lightning fast. “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you, just don’t leave. Don’t you dare leave.” She gave Andy another intense look, but this one was desperate, pleading, with not a trace of her earlier haughtiness. Andy’s heart twinged, and she sat back down, watching as Miranda began to pace along the short length of the study.

 

“Andrea.” Miranda bit the inside of her cheek. “I can’t focus around you.”

 

Andy blinked. “Oh. What do you mean?” She racked her brain for possible answers, but came up with jack squat.

 

“I think about you. Often.” The older woman’s breath was quickening exponentially. “I try not to, really, I do. It’s not right.” She gave a small, mirthless laugh, shaking her head again. “If it’s any consolation, I hate myself for it.”

 

Andy’s blood roared in her ears. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “Miranda, I don’t understand.”

 

“Think about it, Andrea,” Miranda hissed, folding her arms across her chest. Her cheeks were turning a lovely shade of red. “Think about it long and hard. What do you see when you come here?”

 

Andy considered it. Messy hair, flushed face, clothing out of place, almost as if Miranda’d been-- she felt her face get warm. Shit.

 

“It seems like you’ve got it,” was the professor’s dry reply.  _ Oh, _ Andy thought. Oh, because that would mean that Miranda felt the same way about her as she did. Did she touch herself with her eyes closed, pretending that her fingers were Andy’s instead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhh. didn't know where to take it, because it was HELLA awkward! was of my meds when i wrote this, so my writing skills or thought process weren't up to par


	9. philadelphia story au

Andy settled into the couch, feeling herself sink in the upholstery. 

 

“Bonjour!” Two high voices chorused in unison. With a start, Andy turned her head in the direction of the sound. A pair of ginger girls wearing ballet flats and frilly pink dresses pranced to where Andy and her partner Christian were sitting. They both exchanged incredulous looks as the girls approached, walking  _ en pointe. _

 

“How do you do?” One girl asked sweetly, and both curtsied gracefully. Their coordination was impressive, Andy had to admit. 

 

“You must be the man and lady from the press.” the other chirped, a dazzling smile plastered on her face. Andy felt like a cornered animal about to be jumped by a pair of tigers, and in return, smiled weakly. “I am Cassidy Priestly, and this is my sister, Caroline.” The one who had just spoken gestured to herself and the other girl grandly. 

 

“Well, erm, I’m Christian Thompson,” Christian said confusedly. He pointed to Andy with a flick of his hand. “This is Andrea Sachs.”

 

“Enchanté de vous voir!” Caroline-- was that right?-- exclaimed, her shrill voice making Andy cringe. Jesus Christ. She supposed she should have expected this, considering they were Miranda Priestly’s daughters, and Seth Presley's grandchildren. But this was... a lot to take in.

 

“We spoke French before we spoke English,” Cassidy-- again, Andy wasn’t sure -- boasted, puffing her chest out comically. “Our early childhood was spent in Paris where our grandfather worked at a bank.”

 

“The House of Morgan,” the other added haughtily as she toyed with the pearls draped around her neck. 

 

Andy and Christian were both staring at them in incredulation. “You don’t say.”

 

“Oh yes, we do say! Can you play the piano?”

 

Andy opened her mouth to respond with “No,” but was immediately cut off.

 

“We can,” they drawled, as if that wasn’t made obvious by them asking the question. “We shall play, and sing!” The twins jumped to their feet, tiptoeing to the grand piano. Andy watched as they both hopped onto the seat with a well-practiced ease.

 

As they butchered some French song, the cream-coloured doors swung open, revealing an elegant woman in a cerulean dress. Though she was clearly older than Andy, there were only a few noticeable wrinkles around her eyes, which were the same striking colour as ice, and just as chilly. Her hair was frosty white, and when she smiled at Andy, she felt herself shiver. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, and resembled a grimace. She knew immediately that this was Miranda Priestly.

 

“Filles!” She called, clearly speaking to the girls. “Le déjeuner sera bientôt prêt!” Miranda began speaking rapid-fire French, and the only thing Andy caught was “smallpox.”

 

“Le smallpox?” The girls stared at her, clearly horrified. Their mother nodded vigorously. “Oui. Pars maintenant, aller à grand-mère.” The twins, still looking confused, were ushered out of the room, and Miranda shut the doors behind them, leaning against them melodramatically. “I’m Miranda Priestly.” She was still wearing that insincere, slightly terrifying smile, and her voice was sweet as honey. “You must be the press, I just adore strangers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an oldie from mid-january! it's a sort of "the philadelphia story" au
> 
> this was when my classic cinema addiction had reached its peak, and i was highkey obsessed with katharine hepburn and jimmy stewart


	10. teacher's pet - second attempt at chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wrote this a long ass time ago tbh. i wanted more tension and for them to be HELLA awkward about everything

Miranda had been glowing for the duration of their study session tonight. She actually smiled once or twice, and she spoke in a warm purr. It was a little distracting, and Andy’s attention was rapt as she watched Miranda play with her glasses under her chin. It kind of cute. Cute, at least until Andy would let her gaze travel down a little. A scarlet bra peeked through her striped blouse, along with a generous amount of cleavage. 

 

“Is this right?” Andy inquired, pointing to something on her screen. To her alarm, instead of taking the laptop from her, Miranda scooted nearer. The heat she was giving off was almost unbearable, and she smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla and lavender. Andy stiffened as Miranda’s  _ entire body _ brushed up against her.

 

“Yes, Andrea.” Her voice was huskier than it normally was. “You’re very good.” A hand came down to rest on her leg, and it sent a shock through her.

 

Oh god, oh god. Tension began knotting itself into her stomach. Andy knew that Miranda didn’t actually want anything to happen, but it was just a little confusing. She should probably go home now, because self-control hadn’t ever been her specialty. “Thank you,” Andy managed, struggling to keep her voice even. “I-I think I need to get going now. It’s getting late, and I don’t want it getting too dark when I drive back.”

 

Miranda looked puzzled for a moment, withdrawing her hand. “You can catch a taxi, I can call my personal driver, or drive you myself.” Andy could not picture Miranda driving. The professor was clearly above that.

 

“No, I’ll be okay.”

 

The professor’s eyes glazed over. “You should stay the night.” Andy stared at her, unsure if she’d heard her correctly. “What?”

 

Miranda rolled her eyes, and Andy was relieved that everything had gone back to normal. That is, until she spoke again. “You heard me. I don’t enjoy repeating myself. Stay here tonight.”

 

Andy wondered if this was actually her professor, or some pod person. “I appreciate it, but I’d hate to impose-”

 

“Nonsense.” She waved a hand dismissively, her other arm slinking around Andy’s shoulder. Her touch was warm and firm. “If I didn’t want you to, I wouldn’t have brought it up. Stay, Ms. Sachs.”

 

“It’s Andy,” Andy reminded her without thinking.

 

“Andrea.” Miranda tested it on her tongue, drawing out the last syllable. Jesus, she sounded almost orgasmic. Andy bit her lip, crossing her legs tightly. Holy fuck. 

 

“Okay. I’ll stay the night,” Andy conceded, after a moment’s hesitation. It would be unwise to say no to Miranda. “But I’m just a little worried that I might ruin things because-”

 

She couldn’t finish that last sentence, because Miranda was kissing her. Miranda Elizabeth Priestly, top of her graduating class, with a PhD in law, celebrity, her professor. Her lips moved against Andrea’s, hot and wet. To hell with self-control. Andy cupped her jaw, clinging onto her like she’d die if she didn’t. Her tongue darted out, and Miranda caught it with a small moan.

 

Andy didn’t want to surface for air yet, because she was afraid Miranda might change her mind as soon as she broke away. The older woman finally relented, her breaths shallow as her chest rose and fell. If Miranda was warm earlier, now she was a supernova explosion. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” the older woman groaned.

 

Andy let surprise overtake her arousal. “What? You literally could have asked and I would have said yes.” Miranda’s mouth parted into a small “o.”

 

“You don’t really mean that.” Her professor sounded doubtful. Andy decided to prove it to her, rather than say it. She dipped her neck and began lavishing the base of Miranda’s throat with quick hard kisses, who instantly toppled over on one side of the couch. 

 

“Oh, oh, oh,” the older woman whispered, stretching her neck back further, granting more access to Andy. 

 

Andy was deliberate, slowly but surely making her way up to Miranda’s sharp jawline. She traced it with a finger, and watched with relish as the woman shivered underneath her. Miranda’s hair was mussed from lying down, and her eyes were shut tightly as Andy delivered gentle bites and passionate kisses to her skin.

 

“Miranda?” Andy asked innocently, as if they were in class. “I have a question.” Miranda appeared to be in no state to answer, but croaked, “What?”

 

“I was just curious,” she explained, leaning down so she was whispering in the other woman’s ear. “This may not be relevant in a case, but I feel that it’s a reasonable question now. Do I have permission to touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere, and fuck you until you see stars?”

 

There was silence. Then Miranda’s brilliant blue eyes fluttered open halfway, a brow arched in annoyance. “For God’s sake, yes. Get on with it.” Andy grinned, though Miranda couldn’t see her, and began unbuttoning her blouse at a leisurely pace.

 

“You asked to fuck me,” the professor hissed. “Why don’t you?” She didn’t sound nearly as intimidating when she was underneath Andy and horny as hell. “You’re right,” Andy concurred, and ripped off Miranda’s blouse in one fluid motion, chucking it off to the side. She smirked when she heard Miranda give a small squeak. Her breasts strained against the red lace, and Andy paused, her gaze roaming over her professor’s body.

 

There was a faded scar, which she presumed was from a c-section, and almost imperceptible stretch marks around her stomach. Her skin was perfect and white like porcelain, and Andy almost felt bad when she began leaving red marks on it. Miranda’s abdominal muscles clenched, as if she were inhaling sharply. Andy moved up her stomach, her bites turning into kisses, and she paused at Miranda’s bra.

 

“May I?”

 

The professor nodded hesitantly, then said, “Yes.” Miranda shifted, making it easier for Andy to unfasten her bra.

 

 


	11. ballet au

"Andrea, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I asked for pirouettes." Miranda's eyes narrowed at Andy, who was sprawled across the floor of the studio. She bit her lip and tried her best not to tremble, stammer, or do anything equally embarrassing. "You did, Miranda." Andy shifted her leg, which twinged painfully. She prayed to God that nothing was sprained or broken.

 

 

 

"Pirouettes are meant to be done while standing-- and yet it seems like you've decided to take a nap on the floor," Miranda with an arched eyebrow, and the other dancers giggled a little at this. The dance instructor silenced them with an icy glare, and redirected her attention back to Andy. "Get up."

 

 

 

Andy stumbled to her feet, ignoring the dull, throbbing pain in her ankle. Miranda watched her intently.

 

 

 

"Now." The older woman's hands made their way to Andy's waist, who gasped a little at the contact. Her hands were surprisingly gentle. "You're slouching, stand up straight." With the warmth of Miranda's touch and note of command in her voice, she complied quickly. "Don't raise your arms, ensure that your foot is placed firmly on the ground when you begin." She guided Andy's arms into position, caressing her forearm, shoulder, and back. Andy's thoughts were murky, and she found that she was breathing heavily. Miranda must have noticed too, because she said caustically, "Stop panting like a dog, it's distracting."

 

 

 

"Yes, Miranda. Sorry, Miranda." Andy's face was getting warm.

 

 

 

"Now try it." Andy blinked at her. "What?"

 

 

 

"A pirouette," Miranda said impatiently, rolling her eyes. Andy took a deep breath, and spun, keeping her arms in place as she twirled around, her right leg kicking up and down like it was supposed to. She was doing it, really doing it.

 

 

 

When Andy set both feet back on the ground, Miranda nodded. "Acceptable." Andy sighed in relief.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cleaning out old works, this was a drabble so i guess i'll stick it here

 

Then she spoke, her voice smooth, sultry, and fluid. “Andrea.” God, all she had to say was her damn name and Andy’s knees went weak. The brunette slowly looked up from the floor, her heart probably going a hundred beats a second.

 

Blue eyes glimmered darkly at her, and Andy was entranced. As Miranda began craning her head forward, Andy didn’t move, grounded to her spot.

 

Their lips pressed, and Andy felt a tongue dart inside her mouth, and gasped at it. Miranda caught her lower lip with her teeth, and Andy finally began to reciprocate the kiss. It felt like she was on fire, her face feeling singed from the force and warmth of Miranda’s lips.

 

The older woman moaned softly and tangled her hands in Andy’s chestnut locks. Andy was so preoccupied with ravishing Miranda’s neck with attention that she hadn’t noticed that Miranda was leading her to a wall.

 

The editor pinned her to it, and nipped her ear, issuing a small squeak out of Andy. “Clothes off,” she whispered into the brunette’s ear.

 

Andy wasn’t sure if Miranda was referring to her own clothes or Andy’s clothes, but flung her shirt aside and began unbuttoning Miranda’s blouse. “Just rip it off,” Miranda growled impatiently. Before Andy could protest, the editor’s voice dropped an octave. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The younger woman’s heart pounded vehemently. She very much would, and with Miranda’s blessing, she tore the blouse off and cast it aside. The older woman was stunning, breasts straining against the gold lace bra as she pressed herself even closer to Andy. God, she was so warm—

 

“Good.” She snaked her hand around Andy’s waist, and with the other held her against the wall. “Take your pants off now.”

 

The brunette’s eyes widened. Wait, what? This was going really fast. Not that Andy minded at all, but it was just surprising considering this was-- Miranda. She obliged anyways, and immediately the older woman’s hands began travelling down Andy’s body. Gentle, teasing touches that sent chills down her back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is BAD but i'm working on yet another story with a similar (if not slightly better) premise but it won't be posted for about ten million more years

Andy makes the mistake of wearing an outfit nearly identical to Miranda’s one day.

 

Of course, she doesn’t mean to. She now knows how to put together a good outfit, but Andy’s always thought of it as following a dress code, something to get Runway glamazons to take her seriously. Miranda Priestly in particular.

 

So she shows up in a nondescript white button-down shirt, black pencil skirt, and a shimmering silver coat. Andy always dresses like this-- simple, safe. And okay, a little like Miranda does, which is totally unintentional, and a fact she isn’t aware of until she walks into the editor’s office.

 

Miranda is wearing the exact same outfit as Andy, which is disconcerting for multiple reasons. The first being that Miranda must own thousands of dollars worth of couture, millions of possible clothing combinations, and this is the one she wears today. Fate can be cruel. The second is how a part of Andy actually likes the fact that they’re matching today. It’s stupid and she knows it, but that doesn’t do much to stop her heart from thundering.

 

She licks her lips, and sets the coffee tray on the table, doing her best to not let her hands shake.

 

Miranda’s eyes flick up to meet hers. After her customary once-over, she raises an eyebrow. Andy isn’t sure if she’s mad, or amused, or surprised. Will she tell her to change?

 

“Emily isn’t here today, so you’ll wait for the Book. Tell Conan that I need to see some of the accessories he has in mind for the streetwear shoot, and to refrain from using those hideous distressed sneakers. Contact Human Resources, I need two more models since Christine and Svetlana left.” All these instructions leave Miranda’s lips in a single breath, the smooth cadence of her voice not faltering for a moment.

 

Andy dutifully writes these down, but is tense with the expectation that Miranda will berate her later for her outfit.

 

“Tell Cara that I expect the girls to be in bed by a reasonable time tonight, and not bouncing off the walls at midnight. Cancel my meeting with Leslie, confirm my dinner reservation tonight with Peter at that one restaurant I like.” Miranda keeps going, and Andy tries to make sense of all the information being thrown at her.

 

“That’s all,” Miranda finally says, and Andy is faint with relief as she makes her way back to her own desk, notepad tucked under her arm.

 

“And Andrea?”

 

There it is. Andy turns to face Miranda, hoping her expression resembles a smile more than a grimace. “Yes?”

 

“That’s the Dior coat from the 2007 Winter collection, correct?”

 

Andy presses her eyes shut. “Yes, Miranda.”

 

“Tomorrow,” Miranda says. “You should wear something from Chanel’s ready-to-wear collection. Perhaps the black blazer with the cuffed sleeves, a while blouse, and-- I don’t know, a pencil skirt of your choosing.”

 

That’s how this whole outfit thing starts. Weird, but nothing Andy can’t handle-- or so she thinks.


	14. joe's diner - pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesbian Activity, What Else Could It Be?

The evening meetings, or “hangouts” as Andrea puts them, become regular. Miranda finds herself out of the office before nine o’clock multiple days a week, a feat she’d never been able to accomplish while married. Now she wonders if it really were possible to save a couple of her previous marriages, make time for her husbands like they’d kept asking her to. Then again, none of them were Andrea. None of them fascinated her to the same extent Andrea does.

 

They don’t always go to that dingy old diner every time, much to Miranda’s relief. They frequent bars, some upscale, some not. Andrea takes them on drives across town, while Miranda rolls down the window and enjoys the feel of crisp, city wind on her face. They talk about their days, lament about work, and buy each other drinks. The evening ends with Miranda struggling to walk in her heels and Andrea laughing uproariously at her lack of coordination.

 

Andrea’s message regarding tonight’s plans had been vague. 

 

_ i’ll be there at 12:15, wear something comfortable x _

 

Miranda opens her phone to reread the message, dwelling on that x punctuating the end. Ever since quitting her job as Miranda’s assistant, Andrea has become increasingly brazen in her mannerisms. It suits her nicely, though it sometimes strikes Miranda as flirtatious- which is ridiculous, because the younger woman is only teasing her, as any friend would. After spending nearly a decade without anything remotely resembling a friendship, it’s natural to jump to conclusions, especially when Miranda’s well aware of her tendency to over-analyse situations. 

 

Then again, she wouldn’t mind if Andrea was flirting with her.

 

Miranda rolls her eyes at how ludicrous the notion is and redirects her attention to the Book. It’s crucial that she get as much work done as she can before she leaves. She and Andrea seldom return home sober on Friday nights. They usually drive to and from their destination via taxi, and Miranda predicts that tonight will be no different from the others.

 

She checks her watch, notes the time, and with a sigh sets the Book down. Miranda checks her reflection, and decides that there’s not much harm in going out in her work attire. It’s comfortable enough, per Andrea’s request. She’s vaguely annoyed that she still has no idea where they’re headed, but a part of Miranda is intrigued by the mystique of it all.

 

Miranda’s already at the door before Andrea even raises her hand to knock. “Andrea.”

 

“Hey, Miranda.” Her face breaks into one of those sweet smiles. Miranda finds herself giving Andrea a once-over out of habit, and her throat goes a little dry. Her eyes roam over the crisp, white button-up and she tries not to stare at that sliver of black lace peeking out. God, she has a leather jacket tucked under her arm.

 

“Hello.” Miranda says evenly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but are your plans to have us stand here all evening?”

 

“Nope.” Andrea seems unfazed by the bite behind Miranda’s remark, and simply smiles wider. “And nice try, but you’ll just have to wait until we get there.”

 

Miranda shifts through possible responses to that, and decides on a resigned, “Fine.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something old from january 25th... this was the first draft for "the closet" that i ended up completely scrapping

Andy was busy drafting an email to Versace when she heard the all-too-familiar clicking of heels, accompanied with a loud sigh. She glanced up. For some miraculous reason, Miranda was just standing at her desk, stamping her foot but saying nothing. Her imperious, icy eyes were as always, hidden by dark shades, and she loomed imposingly as ever in her sleek coat. However-- Miranda’s face was slightly flushed, and she tapped her fingers against Andy’s desk idly.

 

“Good morning, Miranda.” Andy tried to sound neutral, and restrained herself from asking questions. The editor’s please-bore-someone-with-your-questions thing was really incovenient, especially considering how cryptic she tended to be.

 

“I need you to go and--” Miranda trailed off, redirecting her gaze to the ground. “I... you need to go to the Closet.” Andy just nodded helpfully. It seemed like the older woman was having one of her weird moods again. She’d picked up on it, they’d started a few weeks ago.

 

Staring off into space, always jumping when Andy walked into her office. Andy wasn’t sure what it was, but it was worrying, and soon discovered that it was better to just pretend nothing was wrong. Miranda would kill her if she suggested that she see a doctor. “Of course, Miranda.” Andy didn’t know what the hell she was supposed to get, but just smiled sweetly. Miranda looked reassured by this, her face softening a fraction.

 

“Good. We’ll go together.” The older woman said it so nonchalantly, it took a moment for her words to register. “Uh-- okay.” She thought the whole point of Miranda employing assistants was so that she didn’t have to get up and run errands, and focus on running the magazine instead.

 

“Well? Lead the way, Andrea. We don’t have all morning now.” 


End file.
